


Dark Enchanted Forest AU That I don't Yet Have A Title For

by Lotornomiko



Series: Love In Darkness [3]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe, Angst, Dark Romance, Dark fic, Drama, Enchanted Forest AU, Eventual Smut, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Smut, dark smut, princess emma dark one hook, the forbidden love affair of light and dark, will add more tags as I think of them
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:00:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26137747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lotornomiko/pseuds/Lotornomiko
Summary: Gift fic for my best friend....she fangirls the darkness from my fic, Beyond Here Lies Darkness. It's a dark dark fic meant to cheer her up.Everlasting night has fallen over the land, and been that way for centuries, courtesy of the Dark One, who demands a monthly tribute of female flesh. Princess Emma doesn't think this or the fact no one has tried to fight the darkness, right, and decides to go to it, as its monthly tribute, but really goes with the intention of being the savior that vanquishes the darkness once and for all. She's about to find herself vastly outmatched.Even in the darkest hour, there is always some light, as Emma is about to discover first hand the truth behind the tributes, and just what that power inside her is, and what it means to the Darkness...No Storybrooke, it's an Enchanted Forest AU...dark dark fic as my friend wanted.
Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan, The Light/The Darkness, emma swan/darkness
Series: Love In Darkness [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1778932
Comments: 14
Kudos: 23





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alpha_huntress](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alpha_huntress/gifts).



> This here is a gift fic dedicated to my bestie, Huntress...Recently I inadvertently spoiled something that has to do with the planned ending for my Beyond Here Lies Darkness fic. She was pretty devastated about it, to the point to try and cheer her up, I am trying to do a fic where the Darkness wins. It’s meant to be a dark fic, but it’s not set in Storybrooke, as I couldn’t see Emma Swan as ever truly giving in and submitting to the dark or forgiving it...however I started brainstorming, and thought maybe some crazy Enchanted Forest AU, where the curse was never cast, so Emma grew up a Princess..
> 
> This is meant to be a dark fic, so please be advised, there will be rape/non con/forced seduction (Whatever flavor you prefer to call it personally), and violence among other themes. If blatant dark themes are not your cup of tea, I strongly advise you to turn back. The first chapter may start off somewhat light, but I can guarantee it won’t STAY that way for long….
> 
> \----Michelle

There is the mad stampede of what had to be over one thousand hooves hitting dirt, stone, and whatever else lay covering an ill repaired and not often used path. Easily close to five hundred horses pounding down that broken shambles of a road, splitting the long abandoned pavement further apart. They brought with them the sound of thunder, and the desperate fury of the King and Queen’s army, that bright regime colored in soft blues and golds, and armed to the teeth for the war they were prepared to wage. For beneath the thin fabric of their kingdom’s color, lay the glint of the metallic, the armor that each man wore, many covered from head to toe in steel and iron painted with symbols that had nothing to do with their country, and everything to do with being wards of protection.

Those wards extended from every known corner of the land, some dating back hundreds, if not thousands of years in age. Dark inks and in some cases actual blood, used to create those desperate symbols in which they all pinned their hopes on. That desperate army continued on, pushing down that pathway that was looking more and more like the forest ahead of them was hell bent on reclaiming it entirely. And as the horses were worked to the fine lather of their limits, and even beyond, several of the magnificent steeds would suddenly just drop down dead abruptly.

No one turned, no one even paused, horses made to go around, even jump over the obstacles of their fallen brethren. With snorts of exhaustion, and even the occasional whinny of fear, these fine examples of flesh, were made to run, to give chase even at the personal cost to themselves. Those few horses who dared tried to slow down, were whipped by merciless hands, no quarter or rest given by an army in so fervent a pursuit.

Their quarry, not more than a few dozen kilometers away, flew with the grace and speed of something unholy. It was more than a self righteous fury, or that need to self sacrifice for the good of the people. It wasn’t even that self possessed determination, the woman already half caught and she just didn’t have the good sense to realize it. Her horse ran and it ran without tiring, the long bright gold of the woman’s hair streaming out behind her like a beacon, the only source of light in the otherwise never ending black that was the eternal night of this world.

That night had blanketed the world on a day none living had ever had the privileged to have seen. Not this generation, or the last, or the many that had preceded them. The sun in all its rumored glory, had been lost, the world cast into this void of cold and dark, where each soul had been left, battered and afraid, clinging to what they could for comfort and warmth. They weren’t a forsaken people, though abandoned by all that was holy they were, the one being they could dare to compare to God, the very creature who had plummeted them all into this eternity of never ending madness.

The Dark One.

It was a whispered thought in all their minds, that being of pure evil, a creature none had lived to see and talk about. Its menace however, was felt throughout the world, and not just for the sun that it had stolen from them. The famine and the desperation, the sacrifices made, the tribute it demanded on a monthly basis, all the lives lost as a result. There was nothing but despair to be found, and yet a determined people kept trying, living and adapting through the many horrors, clinging to one another in these desperate moments, whole civilizations worth of people working to get by as best they could. Even with that horrible price looming over their heads, daughters, sisters, even wives, lost to that darkness.

No one knew WHY the dark demanded a new female be brought to it each month, just that it did, a life sacrificed every month for hundreds of years, so that everyone must else might keep on surviving. It was a necessity that no one much liked, but the cost against going against the Dark One, had already proven time and time again too high. The greater good of the many was bought on the backs of that monthly tribute.

It was disgusting! Her stomach curled with just the thought of it, with how beaten down everyone, including her parents, were. A King and A Queen, not even they tried to defy the Dark One. They, ALL of them, just went on living that bleak existence, bartered off of a sacrifice that brought nothing but misery and more tears, no one was left unaffected, not a single family, not even that of the nobility. But the princess’ time had never come, not in all of her twenty one years of life. She was told to be grateful for the miracle of being overlooked, to just keep on living her life for as long as she still had it, but the princess simply couldn’t. She had seen the devastation done to those called upon, to the pain and heartbreak of their family and loved ones, to the resignation of the one marked for sacrifice. She couldn’t, wouldn’t feel grateful for being spared that, not when everyone should be doing more than just accepting the tribute as a permanent part of life. That it had been centuries however, since anyone had thought to hunt down and fight the Dark One, didn’t much matter. If everyone, including her parents, were too cowardly to face it, then let the princess herself be the one to put an end to this madness!

With that thought, that DESIRE in mind, she felt the bouncing at her back, the stuffed quiver full of her mother’s best made arrows. The princess was good with a cross bow, and stood a better chance of winning with that than with the sword she had stolen from her father’s armory. She had brought it all the same, though the young woman didn’t expect to win if it came down to a clashing of swords. The Dark One was fast, this ancient, evil entity one of magic and cruelty. The princess’ best chance, was to strike from a far, an arrow to that black heart that felt and knew nothing of love and warmth.

Behind her in vigorous pursuit was an army, the men that her parents had dispatched to stop her. She couldn’t help feel a small smidge of resentment that they could send out the military for this, for her, but not let loose the soldiers to take down the dark menace who had terrorized the world for centuries. She couldn’t hate them for it though, for no parent had ever found it easy to send a daughter off to the Dark One’s forest.

Her parents no different, no less loving than any other who had lost a daughter as tribute, not even their heart break could get the princess to stop. Her ambition, as mad as it was, was also an act of desperate and determined heroics, a savior needing to bring to end this never ceasing cycle of terror and cruelty, and with none in sight, the princess had appointed herself as the only one who was still willing to try! It did not make for her being any less nervous and afraid, every step forward one step closer to what might be her spectacular victory, or an equally as unimpressive a failure.

The dark forest loomed in the distance, all gnarled wood, and menacing atmosphere. A bolt of stray lightning seemed to split the sky, but any rumble of thunder was lost to the sound of all those horses running. She urged her own ride faster, the stallion whinnying in a distress that didn’t have all to do with the fact they have been journeying for more than two nights worth of time. He too was nervous, nostrils flaring as though the animal scented something foul. The princess could only whisper a prayer, fervently hoping she wasn’t about the be thrown from his back or worse.

Never once did it cross her mind, that there might be one more pair of eyes watching. Narrowed with a considering gleam that compelled the horse forward. The beast snorted and whined with its fear, its legs moving not of its own accord, bringing the princess, the tribute, closer to her ultimate destiny. The stallion picked up speed, the distance widening between it and the army in pursuit, and this time when lightning flashed, it struck down on the ground directly behind her, splintering it in such a way, that the first of the horses reared up in alarm.

The princess heard the cry, heard the man shouting in an effort to calm his horse down. She might have even spared a glance back over her shoulder, but the mist was upon her, swallowing her and her steed up. It was the shock of wet ice upon her, and impossible to see through, but the stallion kept plowing forward. Fear of a different kind caused her to try and pull on the beasts’ reins, the princess fearing they would stumble headfirst into the border of the Dark One’s forest, and smash against one of the many thick trees there.

The horse seemed to ignore her, running forward even faster now. Long gone was the sound of the pursuit, the eerie quiet of the mist disrupted only by a night hawk’s screeching overhead. One hand’s fingers still tangled upon the reins, the princess began to unfasten the delicate in appearance cross bow from the topmost saddle bag. An arrow was quickly slid into slot, wires primed and made ready, the princess wide eyed and alert, fearing as though the entire forest would hear the terrified beat of her heart.

Abruptly, both wet and shaking from the mist, they found themselves THERE, not at its borders, but inside the deepest part of the woods. The princess couldn’t quite contain her gasp, the trees that surrounded her so tightly knitted together, that there was only one path, with no room for maneuvering, the horse padding to a stop. It panted from its exhaustion, pushed beyond the limits of its endurance, the horse’s legs actually shaking. The princess had no way of knowing that the horse’s deathly pallor, wasn’t entirely all her own fault, but that a dark magic had also been at work. She just heard the tired exhale, the stallion close to breathing out its last breaths, and she found only herself to blame.

“I am sorry.” The princess whispered, stroking the horse’s coarse mane one last time, before sliding off its back. “And thank you...” She didn’t make to remove any of the saddle bags, knowing she needed to be light on her feet to be quick enough to stand a chance against that which she was hunting.

Her eyes used to the dark of night, were in no way prepared for the sudden burst of light in the distance. It wasn’t that of the fabled sun though, wasn’t even the blaze of a fire, or the soft illumination of the kingdom’s many lamps. Each one was barely bigger than her thumb, and so low to the ground, as though to light the way for her feet. She thought that strange, and was made leery, realizing that someone, or rather some THING was expecting her now.

The shiver that went through the princess, didn’t have all to do with the cold left over from the mist. She found herself shaking with every step, though never once did she hesitate. It was simply too late for any second thoughts, and she was about to die a hero, not run away sniveling and crying like a coward. She followed the light, that continued to pop up just ahead of her. It was never enough to get her bearings, though it did keep her from tripping over the gnarled and exposed roots of several trees. She never once saw sign of a living thing, though she heard it all the same. Howls of what had to be wolves, sharp squawks of birds, even the buzz of insects. And larger yet, something big and heavy crashing about, something so immense in size, she hoped that it wasn’t the Dark One that she had to face.

She kept walking, her unease building from all the noise that the princess was hearing. It was making her border on hysteria, the princess starting to take aim in the direction of the worst sounds. She was no longer watching the light that guided her, the tip of her boot hitting something solid. She quickly spun in its direction, ready to fire off an arrow, and realized nothing was in front of her. Nothing that is, except for the half formed skull of some long dead human. Was it from the monthly tribute, or was it even older than that, some hero who had once sought to put an end to the very creature she too now hunted? It was too dark to say, and she was in no condition to want to truly contemplate either answer for neither would bring her any solace.

She moved on, stepping over the remains of the skull, but also keeping attuned to the sounds. It was so noisy, the loudest of sounds to perhaps cover what might already be upon her. She led with her crossbow, the pointed tip of the arrow ready and willing to spring free at a split second’s notice. It was getting harder and harder to NOT let loose with an arrow, her fear almost palpable, worries and insecurities trying to lay into her like a heavy cloak.

“This was a mistake.” They said. “You should have never have come. You’re not strong enough to do what needs to be done. You will NEVER be strong enough. No one will.”

She tried not to give in, didn’t so much as lower her crossbow, not certain if that was her fears talking, or that of the Dark One messing her with mind.

“I am not afraid of you!” She cried out in bold face lie.

“Yes, you are.” Immediate was her answer, the arrow flying towards the direction of that voice. She heard a telling thunk, realized it had not struck whoever had spoken, but instead had slammed into the bark of a tree. The princess swore in a way most unbecoming of a lady, and quickly reached towards the quiver on her back. Laughter accompanied her movements, low but decidedly male sounding, and ever so amused. She loaded and primed the crossbow, shot it off in the direction where she thought the laughter originated from. That one went further, whistling through the air, until it abruptly went silent. As though it had been pluck mid flight, with no rhyme or reason as to what might have happened to it. The same result would follow with the next arrow the princess fired off, and the next, until soon all she had left was an empty quiver, the now made useless crossbow, and her father’s stolen sword at her hip.

She closed her eyes briefly for one moment, made dizzy and further afraid. She was certain she stood no chance at winning, not with a blade as her one and only defense. She reached for it all the same, the young woman determined to go down fighting rather than just lay down and die. It was a scream not a whimper, that escaped her, the princess charging blindly forward, swinging wildly. She was not expecting the metal to meet with her sword, or the sparks that resulted from the two connecting. It still wasn’t enough light, but she caught the shadowy figure of what had to be a man. The Dark One!? Or someone pretending to be him!? She wasn’t even sure the latter was possible, no one could be so daring, so INSANE!

The sword pushed at hers, the princess forced back several steps. With the connection broken, so too did the sparks leave them, that form once again lost to the darkness of the forest. She was literally left fighting blind, swinging her father’s sword about wildly, hoping against hope to hit against something. The only time that she did, was to meet that metal blade once more, sparks flying up to reveal bits and pieces of that shadowy form that advanced upon her unrelentingly. It never once made the starting move, always leaving the young woman to advance with the offensive,

“Stop toying with me!” She snapped, furious to realize that creature was only PLAYING with her. “Fight me fair, and fight me real!”

“Fair it can never be...” Came the dismissal. “But if it is real you be wanting, that I can do.” The satisfaction that slithered in that voice, was accompanied by the first true offensive move, the princess just barely getting her sword up in time. Her arms HURT from the effort, the blow that struck her father’s sword, felt to the marrow of the young woman’s bones. There was no time to recover, or reconsider her words, another attack coming, and another, her sword making desperate but ultimately paltry attempts at fending off the barrage. She was being driven back, step by step, and sapped of her strength and bravado bit by stinging bit. Worse, the only light that now was, came from the sparks of the two blades clashing, steel against steel grinding together, and each time her sword was a little slower, her arms just that much more tired.

She was LOSING. She felt it every time she got cut, small slices here and there that bled thickly, and stung sharply, but weren’t ultimately killing blows. It made her angry, and it made the princess ever more desperate, the young woman suddenly abandoning her defense, to stab her sword downwards, towards what she hoped was the man---the creature’s thigh. She heard a hiss, hers and his, each strike landing true. The princess fell back against a tree for support, her breath coming out in wild pants that were just short of hyperventilating. She had been stabbed, as effectively as he---IT had been, but only one of them was the worse for wear.

“Good form.”

“Go rot in hell.” Is what she spat out at it. There was a long beat of anticipation, one that went on for much too long. “What are you waiting for!?” The princess demanded, and pained as she was, she still managed to let the defiance gleam in her expression. “DO IT!” She had meant the last as a means to goad him into ending her at long last, and not an invitation for the kiss she had then received instead.

She still couldn’t see him---it truly, but she felt it all the same, a hot heavy mouth pressing down against hers, lips that were firm and cruel, and unrelenting in their need to absolutely dominate. They didn’t ask, and they certainly didn’t beg, her surrender a demand it expected her to heed. The princess started to gasp in response, skin crawling in unease, and then thought better of it, biting down hard on the lip. She tasted the coppery tang of blood, heard a grunt that wasn’t wholly dissatisfied, the kiss continuing unabated.

Desperate, and panicked in a way that was wholly new to her, the princess tried to shove her attacker off balance. A growl was her reward, a body pressing against hers with an urgent grind that couldn’t hide the weapon still stuck inside. She let him have the kiss, let him think he was victorious, while surreptitiously making her move. This time when her hands landed on him, it wasn’t to push him away, but to signal her acceptance of the situation. Her soft little lips voiced a sigh, letting his tongue slip inside. It was her first experience with such a kiss, and she was charmingly clumsy in her deceit, her fingers stroking down, down his body, searching and exploring, and he didn’t seem to suspect a thing. Not until after her fingers closed around the hilt of her father’s sword, the princess somehow managing to wrench it free of the man—the monster’s leg in a less than fluid like motion.

There was a snarl, more furious surprise than any true pain voiced, the sword’s bloodied tip being pressed to the creature’s chest. The princess grip was a white knuckled one, her sword arm shaking from the effort to keep it up. “Any last words, monster!?”

The laugh that followed such words, was darkly sinister, rolling through her. She shivered in response, but did not let it destroy her defiance and determination. “So be it then!” She said, and used the last of her dwindling strength to piece the Dark One’s heart.

* * *

To Be Continued….


	2. Two

It was never more brilliant than in moments like this, the light alive in her green eyes, and burning with an open defiance. With that desperate anger, and an inner borne strength, it left the Darkness with no doubts about just what it was dealing with.

“Beautiful…” It breathed out the word with a tongue long unused to such flattering words, the Dark more intimately familiar with uttering vile promises, and snarling with rage. But then it had never had real reason for much of anything else, everything so weak and unworthy when compared to this. The vision with that glow about her, the small super nova of pure and unabashed light that once seen could never be forgot. Nor did it want to, the dark transfixed by the light, by its wholesome purity and natural warmth.

It left the Dark One wanting to bask in its presence, to curl up and around it like a dragon hoarding its greatest treasure. It wanted MORE than that, the darkness needing to take so fully from the light as to devour it from shining head to delectable toe. Possessive to a fault, the dark creature wanted to OWN this light, every last inch of it, from the inside out, to the body who played host to it, to the soul it was interlaced with.

That was the vessel’s one and only saving grace, the light she was blessed with, the reason why the woman wasn’t dead on the forest floor. The light marked her as special, and painted a target effectively on her back. She was branded and beaming, and so unequivocally HIS. Now more than ever, the dark ready to toss his head back and laugh, that taunting sound one of pure victory, the light reborn in a form that the dark could now possess.

Made giddy with that realization, and the thoughts of what would soon follow, it was that elation AND the pain of a sword piercing true the heart of the Dark One’s host, that afforded a slim window of chance. Another being inside him began to stir, one Killian Jones reluctantly opening HIS eyes after nearly two decades of sleep.

“Ow.” said the man swallowed up by the dark, but that complaint was more angry than hurt. It was his eyes that blinked against the blinding light, his hand that raised to shield THEIR eyes from the vision before them. The dark snarled at the human’s impertinence, Killian Jones showing more initiative than he had in a good long century.

The dark turned furious, and ever a jealous thing, made a grab for the light that was still working on stabbing them. Weak though the effort was, it would have proven effective, had the creature that light was up against, been something that could actually DIE. It couldn’t. Not from that sword, not from any of those arrows, not from anything those pathetic mortal hands could devise. The dark, an absolute being, would ALWAYS exist, in one form or another, so long as even a single human knew fear, knew hate, or greed, the many violent desires, the angry little impulses, and the innate terror of the unknown. It was that of their undesirable natures that had called the eldritch being into existence, the dark one borne the first time the first human had shown fear.

That fear the palpable scent that had called to the dark from out of the primordial ooze, it had brought with it the corruption and lust that has plagued humankind. Every last undesirable sin, the Dark One has been there for it all, spawning wars, causing untold devastation, as human after human ultimately turned on one another. Stealing, murdering, even torturing, it had been an unbridled chaos for so many a millennia, the people thrust into a nightmare seeming without end.

With no hope, and no chance to do—be better, the people had been in need of a savior. They got one in the form of a Goddess like no other, that ethereal shine that blazed brighter than any sun, splitting into the dark, bringing kindness and daylight to a humanity that had been suffering. She was everything the dark was not, so beautiful and sublime, and so uniquely her own.

The Dark lusting for the first time ever, could not be beaten back fully by that light. Anymore than that bright beam of purity, could be extinguished by the dark. They were forced to coexist, the light the yin to the yang of the dark one. Just like the cycle of night and day, the dark was in perpetual chase of that sun, its greedy nature one that had a violent want, a need to possess so fully the light, and spirit it away from the eyes of all.

For many a millennia, a status quo had existed, the dark’s evil corrupting influence, somewhat tempered by the light of day. Calmed but not snuffed out completely, man an inherently wicked creature by nature. The light tried to be the guiding force needed, but with no real tangible presence to either of them, the humans soon moved on, forgetting that there was more to the night, and more to the day.

Abandoned, the light neither held a grudge, nor grew forgetful of those people, so young and child like in mind, when compared to the two beings who held such immense power over them. No longer acknowledge, both the light and the dark merely existed as whispers in ears, the light full of love and encouragement, sparking a great many things, works of arts, whole civilizations, love and an appreciation of all life, hers was a message of hope and peace that the darkness ever sought to distort. Where her love saw great teeming cities born, the dark’s lust had those kingdoms fight, war devastating the land and everyone around it.

The dark wasn’t satisfied with just wars. It was crazed for the light that was never in true reach, and its impotent fury at being denied, would backlash onto the humans, in creatively cruel ways. A new kind of murderer was born, a depraved mind that got off on the ritualistic killing of people, no rhyme or real reason behind such an act except to cause new found heights of suffering among what the light considered her children.

Serial killers, rapists, torture most foul, the lust and greed to expand an empire, to take everything from another, all ideas the dark planted in the depths of human kind. Husbands turn against wives, parents against children, abuse of all kind being birthed, the dark determined to make depraved all that which the light had gifted to the people.

Rampaging wild and free, the light could tolerate no more the dark’s cruel nature. The dark remembers that too, the day when the final straw that broke the proverbial camel’s back, came. The elation that it had felt, the euphoric feeling to finally be a few steps in reach of the trembling light. They had no real forms, lacked any true substance to them, and yet the dark crowded in close all the same. Eating away at the edge of the light’s shine, coming closer and closer, coiling around it as a thick wispy smoke that would cover and snuff that brilliance from the world.

Ready to take the light for its own, the dark moved those last inches, eager tendrils reaching for that purity. There was no hesitation, only greed and the need to possess, to be the sole keeper of the light. The warmth the dark experienced at that first touch could have melted glaciers, so potent a heat was it, leaving the darkness to purr and bask in its strength.

It had been a strength the darkness should have heeded, a danger there it had not taken notice of. It curled closer and tighter around the light, until only a sliver of it was left to be seen, and THAT is when it had happened. Such power unlike anything the dark had expected, that warmth a violence unbecoming of the light. It beat back the dark, sent him torpedoing a great distance into a mountain which decimated on the spot.

At first, the Dark One was confused, not understanding why such an impact could be FELT. The dark, like the light had no tangible form, all ethereal smoke and effervescence brilliance. He struggled beneath the crumbling ruins of the mountain, felt the dust from the wreckage settle thickly on his BODY. An inhale brought with it smoke that made the darkness choke, its eyes watering in response as bit by bit, the realizations came. Two arms, two legs, a torso, a head and a beating heart.

“What have you done...” A cracked voice demanded. “What have you done…!?” He stared up at a light that was dwindling, falling down in a shower of these faded remnant that could barely be called sparks. At the sight of them, the last dying breath of the light, the dark lurched forward, barely registering his speed. Trying to catch hold of any and all that he could reach, the exhausted remnants of light faded from existence, leaving only a warmth that quickly cooled into cold metal.

Its fingers curled around it, uncaring of the way the blade bit and bled its skin. That unwanted heart beat a thunderous sound, deafening the dark to its screams, the creature raging, barely able to comprehend, the light gone from this world. The dark one was besides himself, hating the light for its trickery, but also feeling an emptiness inside it at its loss. The dark so bereft and inconsolable, could not do anything but mourn, an inhuman sound of pain bellowing throughout the cosmos.

The dark knows exactly to the day, how long it has been since the light left him. Can count it down to the exact second, entire millennia having passed, the dark left to rampage and riot retaliation upon the light’s beloved children. It mattered not what form he wore, what human hosted him, the dark always found a way to ultimately corrupt and overpower its bearer, discarding bodies as easily as one might trash.

Filth that he considered the humans to be, it was not just the dark who took notice of the light. Of the form it now inhabited. It felt the man’s appreciation, and the dawning horror at the sight.

“No...No...No!” Killian Jones screamed from inside, trying to wrest control of a body that was no longer truly his. The dark held them still for this, turning inwards as though to slap the human inside him quiet.

“I can’t do this...” Killian Jones whispered in a broken tone of voice. “I can’t be the instrument that lets you torture and kill yet another!”

The dark bared its teeth in a snarl, more than a reprimand held in its claws. It scraped those sharp tips over the man’s SOUL, heard the satisfying sound of his pained response. Between that and the all too real sword piercing Killian Jones’ heart, the man was in a world of hurt.

“Stop it...” He begged, weak as ever. “STOP IT!” It was no strength to stand up to the power that backlash off of the creature so wholly in control. Inside the vessel, the human that hosted the darkness, fell to his knees in sobbing pain.

Satisfied with the sight, the dark turned its attention back to the light. It was still as brilliant a gleam as ever, all gold and shining, with a tiny hint of jade peeking through. It was beautiful, a stunning vision fit only for the dark, its lips curving into a wicked smile.

“Caught you at long last.” Came the taunt. Its hand around the light’s delicate wrist, began to squeeze, and a gasp from its host was heard. She could not maintain her grip on the sword, and the dark did not relax its punishing grip, pulling her off balance, even as wispy tendrils of ink black smoke began washing over that weapon.

“Just WHAT were you thinking?” The Darkness demanded, the sword melting into nothing with a demonstration of power. “Coming here with a weapon you know can do no damage.”

“I...I had to try.” Came the pained answer, the Dark One still squeezing her wrist just short of breaking. “Someone has to...someone WILL put an end to you and your reign of terror!”

That wasn’t the light, the dark grabbing its host by the throat, cutting off her words and her air. “We BOTH know better than that.” It leaned into her, breathing in the scent of her sweat and fear, a tongue snaking out to lick a cheek clean of a single tear.

“Sweet.” The Darkness moaned. “As I always knew you would be.” Its fingers squeezed to the point of bruising, the light starting to flicker and dim. The shine went down to the point even the human could see, a despairing Killian Jones taking note in a detached kind of way, the woman’s beauty.

Long golden blonde hair, those jade green eyes that were currently welling up with tears, the pale skin made an angry pink as lushly pouting lips choked for air. Desperate and dying as she was, there was a fight to her, her free hand scrabbling at the darkness’ fist, her legs kicking out, a foot trying for the wound in his thigh. The darkness felt none of it, shuttling the pain off to the human inside, the howling screams of one Killian Jones echoing in its ears.

With that sound inside it, the dark was able to admit to the finely crafted form of the light, this human a fitting representation of what a Goddess should be. It purred its approval, pressed its body against hers, and only then did it relax its grip.

To the sound of her desperate breaths, the dark nuzzled its nose into the golden sunshine of her hair, felt the warmth flowing off of her, and let loose with its greedy nature. Hands that had just been hurtful and violent, now roamed with a blatant impudence, feeling up the shape and form of its Goddess made real, the darkness intent on learning every new inch of her.

It heard the gasp, the outrage laced in that sound. “I am Emma, Princess of Mist Haven and you will RUE the day….”

“Emma...” It tasted the name on its lips, heard the sultry purr of its voice repeating it. The Dark One liked having her name, for with it came power, and control, no one knowing better than the Darkness what magic a name could wrought.

“Kill me if you will...” The woman continued. “But know you will bring the wrath of my kingdom itself upon your head!”

“Kill you?” The darkness arched a brow she could not see. “I am not going to kill you, Emma of Mist Haven…” It leaned into her face, so close their lips could almost touch. “I’m going to KEEP you.”

“Wh...what?” Came the shaky breath, and inside the Dark felt Killian Jones lifting his head. His voice was an echo of the princess, but even more shocked, for the man had witnessed the Darkness kill tribute after tribute for longer than he cared to remember.

“You’re mine now...and I keep what is MINE.”

“N...No. I’m not yours!” protested the woman. “I will NEVER be yours!”

With those words, the fiery gleam of defiance blazed in her eyes, the woman glaring and fighting, the light that came from within her, growing stronger. The darkness couldn’t stop staring, memorized by that beautiful brilliance, a fight within the woman that was all her own, Emma of Mist Haven kicking, even biting at the lips so close to hers.

“Oh ho ho….” The Darkness breathed out a chuckle. “She is PERFECT. For you and for ME!”

A scream was its answer, frightened, but under laying the fear, was that strength of anger and pride, the woman fighting more, flailing out with her arms as though searching for a weapon, even as it caused her pain, the wounds inflicted earlier bleeding even more.

The light inside her seemed to flicker angrily, as though it was reacting to the woman’s distress. Supporting it, supporting HER, the light trying to bolster this princess with all the strength it could lend. The dark narrowed its eyes at that, watching and thinking, and coming away with the realization that the light was no longer a real match in power when compared to the dark and its host. They were strong in physicality and brute force, while the light and its host, seemed to focus all its strength from the spirit.

Defiant though they were, they sputtered and sparked more like a kitten than a cat. All bluster and bravado, there was not a thing the light could do, now that it had finally been found. And that suited the dark just fine, the woman pulled into the shadows, those inky wisps of tendrils covering them both.

* * *

To Be Continued…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm...not sure whose point of view will be next chapter. Maybe it will be a double one...Not sure if this is a good spot to end a chapter on, but it felt like otherwise it would turn into the chapter that NEVER ends. 
> 
> Had some dark and light origin in here, but this is only touching the tip of the iceberg so to speak. Haven’t really gotten to it being a DARK fic yet though….but hopefully its building to there…
> 
> Wrote this one on only four hours sleep too...X_X
> 
> \---Michelle


	3. Three

She did not go quietly into the dark. Princess Emma of Mist Haven tried to fight every step of the way, punching and pushing, kicking and trying to lurch back, it mattered not what she did, the Dark an opponent that no mortal creature could hope to win against. Not even with the dagger, but the Darkness refused to let linger his thoughts on THAT. Not when he had the Light, so angry and hissing, struggling against his hold, in a way that let him feel every delightful inch of its flesh made real. Youthful and firm, with curves that could make the mouth water, the Dark One found itself pleased with the offering the Light had made of itself.

It and she had been well worth the wait, excruciating agony though it had been, whole millennia having passed since their parting. The Dark had run the gamut of feeling through that time, everything from the impotent anger over the situation, to the paralyzing fear that it might never see the Light again, the relief it now felt could not outweigh the burning impatience, this eldritch being oh so hungry for the Light. For its purity and the body it now FINALLY possessed, the Dark unable to keep from pressing against the woman.

That made her react all the more vigorously, those squirming gyrations a bold and bad attempt to get free, and one that teared the lustiest of sounds from the Dark. The light might have fought more, but the woman? The woman recognized the sound for the danger it signified, Emma of Mist Haven going absolutely still. The Darkness smiled down at her, though its tender regard she could not see, not in the never ending night of the forest, and not without the Dark itself giving her that right. However, it could see her perfectly, Emma of Mist Haven all wide eyed and frightened, her bottom lip a trembling temptation. The Light that glowed from within, seemed to flicker in warning, but the Dark was quickly catching on that its Goddess made real was one without any true power.

The Darkness could have laughed then, so intoxicated off the heady mix of their fear and that realization. In trapping the Dark, the Light had sacrificed more of itself than it had been prepared for, and was now made weak and weaker yet for every drop of blood spilled and every indignity suffered. How it must weep inside, the Dark reflected, so utterly helpless and human. No wonder the Light had stayed hidden for all these long years, it---SHE afraid, and rightfully so, given the cruelties and debauched lusts the Dark had given birth to in man kind.

Those same lusts were now alive in the Dark One’s head, every last possibility considered and wanted, a whole feast of choice to be had, and it was a creature not prone to denying itself. It wouldn’t start now, its hands catching firmer at the body, pulling on those feminine hips. The Darkness was so, so eager, and so boiling over with a need that had gone unanswered for a millennia, that it was difficult to hold back, to pace oneself, greedy to learn every inch of the newfound Light’s body.

Digging its sharp tipped fingers into the Light’s hips, the Dark heard the distressed sound of pain that Emma of Mist Haven let out. It was more than just disgust, more than just fear, it was pain and hurt at the heart of it, the Light itself flickering in accusation as though calling the Dark’s attention to what it had been ignoring. The deep gash there, the sharp point of a sword responsible, the dark entity reminded of it and other lesser cuts made upon this body. They bled and they bled, and it was under a scrutinizing eye, that the Dark realized they weren’t healing the way his wounds had.

“What’s this?” It asked, touching fingers to another cut, one fitted right where the blue fabric of the princess’ tunic showed the barest hint of her cleavage. That tempting swell had a thin rivulet of crimson across it, as did various cuts on her arms, and with a dawning horror the Dark realized the Light’s life force was ebbing slowly before it.

“No!” It suddenly snarled, all fury and desperation. “I will not lose you again!” Amid the princess’ squealing protests, the dark pressed its lips to that sculpted cleavage. But it was not to admire the creamy perfection there, the Dark One intent on the blood, on using its tongue to lap up and seal the wound.

Shaking and afraid, Emma of Mist Haven couldn’t quite keep the outrage from her in this one instant misunderstanding the Dark One’s true intentions. Even as claws dug into her waist, she fought, trying to push him---it away, so focused on a maidenly terror, that she did not feel at first what that monster was doing. The telling tingles of magic across her skin, little glowing embers that sprouted up in the wake of its tongue, the blood starting to slow, then stop completely, as skin seamlessly stitched together anew.

It wouldn’t even leave room for a scar, so effective was that magic, and so in need was the princess, that she no longer FOUGHT the creature, letting it touch tongue and lips to other cuts on her body. It was strange and surreal though, those firm lips, that determined tongue, and the feeling of a beard’s bristles on her skin. Such an odd, but not wholly unpleasant stimulation, though Emma of Mist Haven never once allowed herself to forget the danger that she was still in. This was the Dark One after all, and that it might want her alive, was more terrifying than if it had tried to see her dead.

That shadowy form before her, was suddenly gone and yet not, the man—the monster on its knees before her. She thought that it was prostrating itself before her, and could not understand why, until the magic, and those lips touched upon the worst of her wounds. Even with that healing touch, the princess could not hold back her cry of distress, the cut deep, and full of a stinging pain that was roused worse at the feel of a tongue licking over it.

That cry did something to the Dark, made some feeling stir. It was not a protective or gentle being by nature, this act not so much born of kindness but of necessity, the Dark One refusing to surrender its prize so soon or even ever again. But those sounds, ones of pain and ones of distress, that sweet voice so warped in agony, roused a darker want for MORE. For just as the Light’s tears had been sweet, the sobbing sound of her voice made the Dark’s heart skip a sadistic beat.

Its skin stretched taut and tight with tension, it was the dark that now trembled, its need, that crazy want, stopping just short of it being clumsy. It made sure that Emma of Mist Haven’s hip was completely healed over, and even once fixed, the Dark kept pressing its lips to her there.

“Um….” The uncertain sound of her voice caused it to roll its eyes up, staring into a sight that would have blinded a lesser being for the halo of light that offset the gold of her hair. “Ah...” The princess stumbled over her own tongue, as though loathe to voice any kind of thanks, but feeling she had to.  
“Thank….but I am healed now.”

Never taking its lips off her, the dark than dragged its tongue over the coppery tang of her skin. It didn’t mind the taste of her blood, potent in a way that was more intoxicating than the sweetness of her tears, the Darkness wondered if there was any part of her that wouldn’t prove delicious.

“Really...” With a tremble, she shifted against him. “I’m fi...I’m fine now!” Her hands felt about in a way that made the Dark realize another limitation of the Light’s human form. She could not see him, not truly, Emma of Mist Haven feeling blindly about, in an attempt to shove free of the creature gripping her to him.

Still on his knees and staring, the Dark then brought fire into existence. Emma of Mist Haven heard the sparks ignite into flames, bringing with it the soft glow of illumination and warmth. For one brief moment she sought out the source of each flame, before remembering the monster kneeling before her. It felt the tension within her, as the princess braved herself in preparation for what she had to assume would prove a terrible sight. It almost laughed then, for the Darkness KNEW just what its host looked like, the best and the worst features of the man enhanced to newfound levels of perfection and menace.

The gasp that the princess let loose with proved well worth the wait, those soft looking lips shaping the sound, a potent, “Oh!” as she reeled back with a start. Suddenly the Dark wasn’t just holding her to him, but upright, as though Emma of Mist Haven had gone weak in the knees.

For one split second, Emma forgot that she was looking into the face of a monster, such perfect male beauty the likes of which could only be found in the paintings of angels. Such finely crafted loveliness, that well sculpted jaw line, his was the literal embodiment of what one would expect of tall, dark and handsome. That dark hair both for his scalp, and for the hint of a beard, gave him this rakish, dangerous feel to his looks, but in no way lessened them. Nothing could, not even the eyes that were fixed unwavering on her, the white and the color lost, swallowed up by an ebony that had consumed all that was human. If he had once been an angel, this man, this monster, had long since fallen, that alien gaze marking him as more demon than anything.

She felt the scream locked in her throat, that sound that bordered on hysterical, Emma unable to break free of that focus intensity of the look in the Dark One’s eyes. Strange that, how those eyes, so black and so empty seeming at first glance, could communicate so much with that smolder. That depth of hunger, the need there so awe inspiring and frightening, she couldn’t break free of the hypnotic pull of his eyes, to find what was the worst part of him.

For what felt like a small eternity, their gazes remained locked, the Dark spying in the Light’s eyes, her confusion and her fear, and most of all the wariness there. That jade color was bright with it, the woman knowing she was caught and made prey of the worst kind of predator there ever could be. She trembled with that knowledge, and it wasn’t just the Light, but the woman whose self preservation kicked in. She lashed out, and was thrown down to the ground for her efforts.

Even once there, Emma of Mist Haven refused to go meekly into the Dark’s embrace. She fought, and she screamed, bit down on the lips that tried to kiss her once again. That didn’t deter the Dark, nothing could, every slap, every blow, just another shade of foreplay to a creature who had invented violence. With a lusty laugh and a bloodied lip, the Dark effortlessly pinned the Light down.

Emma of Mist Haven tried to struggle, to buck his weight off of her much lighter self, but the dark weighted down with its desires would not be thrown free. Pressing down on her body, the dark caught hold of her wrists, stretching them and the arms they were attached to high over her head. She arched and strained more, ineffective in her attempts to break free. The jade of her eyes was bright with fear but also holding that sliver of defiance, the woman stubbornly proud even in the face of her defilement. The Dark would have it no other way, that terror and that desperate fight, a heady mix, the creature letting loose with a wild sound.

“Fight me all that you want.” It taunted the Light. “Things won’t end the same as it did that last time!”

The Light had no answer for it, only the woman’s voice could be heard, panting and confused, and having not a clue as to what the Dark referred to. Its eyes narrowed at that, a petulant set to its lips as it stared down at the Light and its host.

“Nothing to say to me?” It asked.

“I...” Her voice trailed off, whisper soft, causing the Dark to lean in close with a questioning hum of sound. She licked her lips as though nervous, drawing his attention to the perfect rosy shape of them, and with a lurching movement, knocked their heads together.

It didn’t so much hurt as shock him, the Dark staring in disbelief at the Light’s daring. It blazed its brightest yet, as defiant as the woman it lived inside, but not once did it speak. So intense was its vivid state, that dazzled as the Dark was, the man inside him again tried to shield their eyes, a gleaming silver hook coming up before their face.

The sight of it brought the princess gasping, the woman both staring and cringing in place. The Dark ignored the man inside, holding up that hook that substituted for the vessel’s left hand, it was colored a silver that would have been gleaming if not for the dried blood that coated the metal.

“This?” The Dark’s tone was musing, watching the woman’s eyes follow the movement of that curved and wicked point. “Ah a deformity from before I took hold of this body, but it has had its many uses.”

Emma of Mist Haven couldn’t seem to imagine what use the Dark would make of a hook for a hand, that didn’t have to do with hurting and killing a person. Painted with that rust red color, she couldn’t even begin to guess how many people had suffered beneath that pointed and sharp tip. It left her victim to a gnawing terror, she nearly wretched when the blunt curve of it caressed against her cheek.

Shaking violently from head to toe, the princess could barely register that the Dark One was still talking. Words that were more confusion than comfort, Emma of Mist Haven having no real clue to the truth behind the monster’s interest in her, or the past it kept alluding that they shared.

“In a way, it is very fitting...” The Dark said. “That you should be so perfect, and I so deformed. Beauty to my beast, we’re the same yet so unequivocally our own.”

It was still caressing her cheek with its hook, its other hand holding both of hers down. She felt like they were at an impasse, that the Dark could do nothing now but kill her. She would find out how wrong she truly was at that, Emma stiffening when the hook was suddenly catching at the collar of her tunic. Even there it caressed, easily pulling aside the blue colored fabric. That touch was so gentle, so at odds was the reverent way that it stroked along skin, the princess positive at any second it was going to plunge into her terrified heart.

She couldn’t even take note of the way the Dark was looking at her, Emma’s eyes all for the progression of that hook. She didn’t see the smile, the way the lips curved into a hungering smirk. Those lips parted on a held breath, so eager for her every reaction, while she was suffocating on an anticipating terror, that wicked metal pausing a beat, then tearing the tunic OPEN.

Emma of Mist Haven choking on fear, still managed to bite out an indignant word. “How DARE you!!”

“I dare because I can.” Was the retort. “Because I MUST.” The hook’s curved tip caught at the lace fastening the bra to her body, Emma of Mist Haven trying to twist away. “You’ve little idea of how long I have been waiting...that blink of the eye that it was for you, a nightmare of eternity for ME!”

“What the hell are you even talking about!?”

“I waited and I searched, a mountain of corpses built on the bodies I used and discarded. I could find no sign of you, had no reason to hope..” It laughed then. “I had almost forgotten. Just as I can not be truly extinguished, so too could the Light continue, so long as there was a single kernel of love and hope in the land.”

“It was only a matter of time...the magic that you had wrought, exacting a price on you. But this? It is beyond my wildest dreams, to have you here and so HELPLESS.”

“Not that helpless!” Emma of Mist Haven protested as her knee suddenly planted itself between the Dark One’s legs. It was a move borne not just of desperation, but of anger, the princess furious for the truth the Dark One spoke, nothing she tried good enough, the woman simply powerless in the face of this eldritch being.

That creature didn’t so much as flinch from her attack, the pain shuffled off to the man inside the body. Killian Jones groaned with the pain and discomfort, but the Darkness? The Dark LAUGHED. “How like you, always so determined to not be caught, but its far too late to have a hope of avoiding THAT.”

With those words, and the tensing of its arm, the bra was then violently torn free of her body. Emma of Mist Haven shrieked, her breasts bouncing free of the confinement of that fabric.

The woman was all round perfection there, her breasts ripe and heavy. They heaved with the force of her panicking breath, that jiggle such an enticing, maddening movement. The Dark wanted to fall on her then and there, so hungry and eager, and after starving alone for so many a millennia, it could find no reason to hold back.

With a throaty growl, it bent over her, eager to learn the texture of her pale skin. The Light flickered in alarm, in volatile protest, but could do nothing to stop the Dark. It fed off its fear, the revulsion there, as flesh that was so soft and so smooth, received the brushing of the Darkness’ lips.

The princess beneath it, was all tension and stiffness, shaking in place, as those lips explored her. Its mouth was such a contrast to the violent nature of the act that it was doing, those kisses whisper soft and caressing, learning her through the act of this worship, and Emma of Mist Haven could not hold still for it any longer. She began violently thrashing, trying to pull her hands free of his.

Teeth bit at her skin in retaliation, the Dark’s growl a warning meant to be heeded. Emma still tried to get free of him, desperate and despairing, eyes welling up with tears that were born of anger. They glistened and gleamed on her skin, like tiny sparks of the light shining through. Ever greedy for all of its pure counterpart, the Dark would not let even that bit of its essence escape him.

She closed her eyes at the dark’s approach, but couldn’t shut out the feel of the tongue licking at her tears. She shuddered in response, the princess wanting to fight, but also not wanting to feel the Dark One’s retaliating bite again. For it burned where it had bitten her, the deep imprint of sharp teeth leaving an angry, red brand on her skin.

She couldn’t seem to stop crying, while the Dark One seemed unable to get enough of her. Emma’s tears, her pain, and especially her body. The hook was back to caressing, its sharp tip tapping against a nipple made rigid with fear. She had to swallow back her scream, Emma of Mist Haven at long last acknowledging what a terrible and foolish act it had been, delivering herself into the hands of this monster. She should have never have come here, this dark forest one that would be her end, this grave one she would never ever escape from.

* * *

To Be Continued…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ended up a double POV type deal. Hope it reads okay, as I kept switching between them. Was also trying to turn into the chapter that would NOT end. X_X Dark quotient slowly amping up, though it still feels tame to me…
> 
> \---Michelle


	4. Four

It hurt to look at her. To look at that brightly beaming form, and watch as that vibrant light from within was slowly squashed, all that fight and defiance losing ground bit by bit to the woman’s despair. She tried to maintain her anger, every indignant act suffered causing tiny flare ups of it to return, but along with it came a pain and an embarrassment that manifested in tears. Even that did the monster choose to relish, a savoring lap of its tongue upon her wet cheek. Killian Jones couldn’t claim to understand it, the beast or its visceral reaction to the woman, that excitement and elation such a potent force that it had roused even the man trapped inside it.

If pressed for any answer, Killian Jones would say that the Dark One was almost bursting with a foreign euphoria that was so unlike anything that the human inside had ever tasted of it. Both a malignant joy and a desperate relief, the Darkness acted as though this woman, this princess, was something that it had missed. Like a cherished and misplaced possession, the Dark was shaking with an effort to gentle the worst of its handling.

That the Dark One would take any measure of care was a laughable thought, this creature one of brute and breaking force, quick to hurt and shatter those that it toyed with. Killian Jones could attest to that, scores of bodies, both men and women, young and old and everything in between, the corpses on which this monster had built its dark legacy upon. This one beneath it, should have proved no different, and yet for every breath taken, she continued to defy the odds of a precedence set from long before the man had been birthed into existence.

Killian Jones, for the hundreds of years that he has been trapped, has both seen and slept through the Dark One’s worst. Has watched as countless necks have been snapped, and borne witness to the most vile and obscene breaking, the monster who had total control of his body, intent on humiliations that saw the soul itself shatter, the mind lost as its pride was broken, and those bodies were pushed past the limits of a human’s endurance. It has been more horror than any one should have the misfortune of bearing, and the man isn’t entirely sure he hasn’t gone mad in the process. He almost laughs then, from where he resides deep inside, the shards of his remaining sanity so fragmented and small, that Killian can’t be anything but insane. He has to be, given what has been done, what his body has been made to do. He feels it from within his soul, the weight of the monster’s countless sin staining blood on his hands, any and every criminal act that the man could and had done, paling in comparison to the Dark One’s cruel creativity.

No one human could compare, the worst of humanity falling up short to this timeless creature of evil. For all the bad that humans could and did do, the darkness did it even better, perfecting the art of such vile misdeeds. It killed and it tortured, made worse those sins, such new and inventive lengths designed to wring out facets a human alone could have never imagined or stomached. It stole all hope, just as it had taken the light from them, the sun lost for more years than Killian Jones had been alive. Born into that darkness, the light of the woman beneath him, was a blinding brilliance that hurt.

With eyes that were in no way ready, Killian saw what the Darkness jealousy tried to cover, that beaming purity of so holy a glow, that the man knew it was in no way natural. That ephemeral warmth, a thousand time stronger than the embers that had come before her, this Emma of Mist Haven might just be a vessel that was perfect.

Hope wasn’t something that Killian Jones had thought himself capable of any longer, and yet looking down at the woman, at her light, how could he do anything but? In that way he was as awe struck as the Dark, wanting to fall down in worship of the one creature in all of humanity that might just stand a chance of bringing the world from out of the darkness. Killian wondered if he was ready, if the world itself was prepared to embrace the change that could be brought about. But most of all, he wondered not if the woman was capable, but if she would survive the Dark One long enough to even TRY.

It was that, the many unanswered questions born in the wake of the woman’s arrival, and his concern for her, that kept him from closing his eyes, Killian Jones forcing himself to bear witness to each and everything that may or may not happen. He’d watch it all, from every grab of her throat, to the wicked worship of her flesh that Emma of Mist Haven was enduring, the woman thus far surviving.

The Dark, so lost in the moment, so enamored with the flesh it was bruising, didn’t seem to notice the man inside, or that sliver thin hope of his that was building. It was too focused on the Light, on its host, the woman’s body exciting it in a way that no other could. Its tasted women before, has made use of their flesh, while scratching at the surface of an itch that was insatiable. Its even to some extent enjoyed the act, the messy and violent merging of bodies. But the Darkness has never been satisfied, the females before this one, little more than empty husks for the using. Emma of Mist Haven was different, an intoxicating mix of woman and light, this potent combination that gave the Dark its desires a form it could finally, irrevocably possess.

Intent on it, on her, the Darkness worked a spell that had slim tendrils of an ebony vine wind around the woman’s wrists. An extension of its body, as well as it desires, these delicate but strong manifestations, were all that it had left of its former state of being. That smokey blackness, it bound and it held her, keeping the woman somewhat subdued and leaving the Dark’s hand free for other uses.

A breath that it didn’t need was caught, the Darkness touching clawed finger tips to the creamy perfection of the princess’ skin. A million and one urges wage combat inside it, the dark having to gentle the worst of its nature, for to do otherwise, was to let the Light escape from it AGAIN. It could hurt it, and the woman that was host to it, but only to a point, this body having already proven so, so fragile.

It was both daunting and exciting, the delicate nature of the Light, its weak state, and the vulnerability it was left with. The Light truly was the perfect counterpart to the Dark, each everything the other was not. Male versus female, physical versus spiritual, they represented the worst and the best of human kind. And as was so often the case, the Dark was overpowering all of the Light’s efforts, her kindness and warmth so easily devastated by his hurtful desires. His greedy nature, its hand moving to envelope skin, the ripe fullness of a breast caught and felt firmly by unrelenting fingers.

Emma of Mist Haven let out a strangled gasp, felt the heat of her embarrassment burning from the inside out, as an impudent hand grasped hold of her. She could feel the strength in that touch, a potent force that could hurt her far worse than it already was, the fear of what it would do, leaving her all but paralyzed in place. She shook though, those violent trembles something that would not be stopped, anymore than the ripples of revulsion that coursed through her. For every flexing of those fingers, every knead of her flesh, Emma turned an angrier pink in color, humiliated beyond belief.

She had never been touched this way, had never even had the chance, the protected princess that she had been, leaving Emma of Mist Haven to not have even the experience of a kiss. She was wholly unprepared for the assault of one now, the feel of a mouth that LOOKED sensual, but was ever so demanding, upon her now. It brought with it heat, and a taste of its tongue, the Dark One so bold and blatant in the desire it expressed. He stole his way into her mouth through trickery and skill, the hand that was fondling her flesh, turning rough enough to force Emma to gasp. That shocked breath she nearly choked on, it and the tongue that was plunging inside her.

She didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to act, but Emma of Mist Haven knew she wanted it gone. She shoved at that invading muscle with that of her own, realizing too late, the pleasure that the Dark One took at feeling the woman’s participation. It either didn’t know that she wasn’t kissing it back, or that the Dark simply did not CARE. In one fluid motion, it had tangled them together, the kiss as domineering on the inside as it was on the out. With firm pressure, and a throaty hum, the Darkness engaging her in a sampling that left her more than just breathless, it rent Emma of Mist Haven exhausted and panting.

Limp and left half swooning, for one dizzying moment the princess forgot where she was, and just who---WHAT was looming over her. She was blind in the way of dreams and nightmares, unable to focus, or grasp at the difference between awake or asleep, conscious only of the need to breath, and that harsh panting sound that was not just hers, but that of the Dark. It too was forgoing, but unlike the Light and the princess that hosted it, the Dark One didn’t HAVE to breathe.

It did however, have to keep a watchful eye, the vibrancy of the Light dimming noticeably the longer the kiss went on for. Its endless enthusiasm found little match in the princess’ stamina, a near constant balance needed to be kept, to keep both her brilliance and her body alive. With what might be its first growl of frustration, the Darkness gave one of its only concessions to the Light, lifting up off it, so that the princess could take in gasping lungfuls of air. What a sight it was rewarded with for THAT, Emma of Mist Haven shaking, her breasts blatantly heaving in a way that called attention to them. The Dark simply couldn’t resist the jiggle of that flesh, or the angry red brand of its teeth upon one. Hand and hook working together, it was the shock of cold metal and heated flesh and the rough nip of teeth, that brought a startling Emma back. She shrieked without meaning too, struggling against her restraints and the cruel beast above her.

Her skin already so vivid a color from the humiliation, still tried for more at the sound of the Dark One’s amused chuckle. Mortified as she was, Emma of Mist Haven still managed the fiercest of glares, not knowing the green of her eyes made for the most vibrant of jade colored light. The eyes that have always been the window to one’s soul, now more than ever betrayed Emma’s as that which the Dark has been wanting. It might not give voice to speak, but the light, all glitter and gleam, gave off the stark proof positive of its rebirth.

Elated at is was, the Dark had no light to spark in the raw abyss of its own gaze. Those ebony pools, all malevolence and greed, could have drowned Emma of Mist Haven whole, the young woman staring into the darkness, and coming away with nothing human or understanding. His was a shell he merely took from the host, Killian Jones like so many of the other men who had once held the Darkness, not a person who was inherently evil. Bad choices aside, the Darkness wasn’t a mirror of that human’s soul, the man merely a vessel, a tool that Dark had used, and might one day discard.

Truth be known, that day might be the only thing left to Killian Jones, the man having hung onto what was left of the semblance of his sanity, for the chance to finally die for good. Maybe then he’d know peace, his soul finally set free. Would it go soaring into the heavens? Or would it plummet far below, Killian made to pay for the sins the Dark One had committed with HIS body? Did it even matter, a voice whispered in his head, and insane as he was, the man had an immediate retort back.

Of course it mattered! For in the Heavens above, there was surely someone waiting for him, a promise to meet again that had to be kept. A broken heart that had to be mend, that small but fierce ember worth everything that Killian Jones had sacrificed for. Even at his most desperate and insane, he didn’t regret the choice he had made, he couldn’t! Not if it meant sparing her a pain and torment that was worse than any father’s abandonment.

It could have been his Alice before him now. Could have been his only child that might have blossomed enough to be even a quarter of what Emma of Mist Haven was proving to now be. That sweet child, his beautiful and vibrant Alice, so curious and full of laughter and light. She had been Killian’s greatest joy, and had proved his biggest reason to despair, that endless night of her eighth birthday, when she had demonstrated enough magic to make a seedling bloom.

He remembers that day as vivid then as it is NOW, the gap toothed smile of his beloved child, as she had danced around before him, holding up proudly, the proof of her magic. That seedling, made for a vibrant shade of purple as it bloomed and unfurled its newly awakened petals. His Alice had been so excited, and in awe, so in love with the flower, and what she had thought it meant. Thinking herself part faerie, for only THEY were the ones who still had enough power to make anything grow in the harsh environs of the world’s never ending night, Killian’s heart had broke with the God awful truth of it.

It was a sign all right, a symbol that all lived in fear of, a perverse manifestation of the Dark One’s favor, the monthly tribute it was in need of. Frozen for one split second in eternity, Killian had only been able to stare down in horror at the bright purple offering in his beloved daughter’s hands. His mind had rebelled, protesting that it was too soon, that she was too young, that he hadn’t wanted to lose her. The man hadn’t cared that this was a price so many others had already paid, that the world kept on spinning, so long as the Dark One was made appeased. Killian hadn’t cared that he and his Alice, that all of their friends and family and loved ones, had eked out a life in so desolate a world under the Darkness’ limited tolerance. He had just been desperate, both to save Alice and to fight that of the Dark. In the seconds it had taken to progress from a shocked disbelief, to soul gutting despair, Killian reacting with the unnatural fury of a loving father whose child was in danger.

He remembers Alice crying in what had followed, Killian having snatched the flower from her hand. He had not only crushed it, the man had ground it to powder beneath his boots, as though pretending it had never been, would make it so that Alice’s fate would never come to pass. She had cried and not understood, great sobbing tears that caught on a hiccuping breath. Desperate as he had been, Killian hadn’t been in much of a mind’s condition for comfort, grasping Alice by her thin arms. Shaking her to force an understanding, to make her promise to never repeat that trick, Killian determined that no bit of plant or seedling would ever again come anywhere near his girl, he all but locked her up under the watchful eye of his first mate and loyal friend, Mr. Smee.

Thus, with the promise to one day meet again, the man, a one time pirate, and now turned desperate father had taken off. He had traveled the realms, had searched in just about every kingdom from one end of this world, to the next, always under the cover of that endless and forbidding night. He heard whispers, followed up on trails that went cold, searching for the impossible. All for the want of saving his daughter, Killian determined to do what no other man or woman had ever been able to do. Destroy the Darkness once and for all.

To say he had failed miserably at that, was nothing short of the laughable truth. The Darkness still existed, still lived on stronger than ever. But it had NEVER gotten his Alice, the girl able to live and grow and eventually have a family of her own. And all it had cost her, was the father she had loved so dearly, Killian gladly paying that price.

Just as Emma of Mist Haven was paying the price of her own foolish determination, the young woman having dared to dream she could put an end to the Darkness and its reign of never ending terror. Even as he pitied her, Killian could admit to admiring that brand of bravery that had sparked within her. He might not know the circumstance about it, but he had seen, even FELT the lethal way in which she had fought. If it had been against any thing else, the princess might have won, but the Dark One has had millennia on her, both in magic and strength, and the wisdom and know how to use both to full advantage.

It has been more than just killing the Dark One has learned to excel at. With so many years behind it, it has learned to perfect its instrument, the body and all it’s arsenal, for good or for bad, and with which it now waged a violent and sensual assault. While Emma of Mist Haven tried to regain ground and catch her breath, the Darkness smothered her in kisses, hand and hook moving over her, taking just enough care to not scratch at her skin, though the remains of her clothing couldn’t claim the same.

In shreds and in tatters, what was left of the blue tunic, and the white leggings beneath it, wouldn’t have been enough to make a single spool of thread. The one and only remaining concession to a maidenly modesty, was that of her lacy white panties. Plain in fashion, and as virginal as the day, the Dark’s mouth still seemed to water in appreciation, the blunt curve of its hook, stroking along the cloth’s band. Emma of Mist Haven seemed to tremble all the more, a strangled word escaping her, more plea than demand.

“Don’t!”

Her eyes were upon it, not so much the Dark One’s face, but that of the hook it was using. The Dark, ever jealous and greedy for the Light, didn’t much appreciate Emma of Mist Haven’s focus put elsewhere, its hand going along past her cheek, to grab at that golden sunshine that made up her hair. With a tight and pulling grip, it forced the woman to look up into its eyes, the princess seeming to shrink in on herself at the sight. It was pure and utter devastation it dealt her in a smile, those lips curved in the most wicked of fashion, and then the hook was tearing at the band of her panties, and ripping with it the lace clean off of her.

Emma of Mist Haven’s hands were still bound, but not that of her legs, the woman squeezing her thighs tighter together, as though that would afford her some kind of protection. The Darkness blew out a soft breath, letting its lips shape a taunting truth.

“Mine.”

It seemed to eat up the sound of her distress, the protest she could not outwardly voice, all her air leeched out of her on terror’s wings. She couldn’t even maintain her angry blush, Emma of Mist Haven so starkly pale in the moment. Nor could she shake her head in denial, that strangle hold grasp on her hair, preventing her even THAT. She didn’t even know what was worse, being made to look at it, or being made to feel what it was doing to her. For though there was that damnable smile, there was also the potent sensations, the hook wedging between her thighs, that cold metal trying to shock her into relaxing against it. It petted and then pried the way open, that grin of it heralding its smug victory, the Dark One holding Emma of Mist Haven still for yet another kiss.

Recoil though she might, that hand whose fingers were locked and tangled in her hair, made sure that the princess could go nowhere. She whined in distress, then nearly jumped up against it, the blunt curve of its hook tracing along the most secret of her feminine flesh. She again tried to break free of those ebony coils around her restrained arms, the Dark continuing to pet over her with a predatory precision. With a patience that belied its true nature, the Dark One was learning every inch of that womanly part. Its breath once again became exaggerated, as though the creature that played at being a man, could not contain its excitement. Again and again with that rasp, with a beat whose timing matched the petting motions of the hook.

Emma of Mist Haven could find no true arousal in the moment. She could find neither pleasure, nor the ability to look past her dread and her fear, bracing for a pain that would prove inevitable. She was close to hyperventilating, so struck dumb with her disbelief, and that was before the Dark One released its hold on her hair. Falling backwards, to thump against a ground she had never noticed was so unimaginably soft, the last sight she had of that smile, was of it disappearing down her body, those cruel smirking lips replacing that of its hook.

She let out a god’s honest yelp at the contact of its mouth upon her, and the wicked intention contained in that kiss. A leashed aggression upon her, as tongue and lips worked her over, the Dark One intent on her full shame and surrender. Emma no longer had any fight left in the moment, couldn’t even lift herself up to glare down at the monster whose head was buried between her thighs. She could only stare up into the darkness above her, the warm glow of several fires, not enough to keep her from being swallowed down whole.

* * *

To Be Continued….

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m very nervous to post this chapter...also it was all over the place. I knew it was telling me to be a Killian POV but he didn’t want to flow into what I wanted to reveal, the whole back story...of him and the Darkness...so it ended up turning into a Dark Emma narrative, and when I LEAST expected it, he came roaring back in, ready to tell SOME of his story with the Darkness. So I did end up liking the chapter, even if it went a round about way and wasn’t as forthcoming with HOW and when and what I wanted to write about here….
> 
> I have to admit I don’t always know what to do about Killian in this fic, or rather I have ideas, but they seem detrimental to what my friend, the person this is a gift fic for, WANTS for the Darkness. I’m trying to be true to her, so please bear that in mind when reading! She wants the Darkness to have its satisfying ending after all. It is probably going to be a long journey to get there too! X_X
> 
> As for Alice...okay I couldn’t see Milah as being the catalyst for Killian’s actions. Nothing against her, but I couldn’t imagine her pure enough to have even the tiniest ember of the light within her. So I was happy to work with Season 7, and use wish verse Killian and his lovely little daughter into some form of the back story in this fic. And for the record, Alice is not some ancestor of Emma’s, just cause they both had light in them. I am imagining there were embers all about, but none held the reborn light until possibly Emma.
> 
> \----Michelle


	5. Five

It has never been one for holding back, the Dark a creature of action, always and forever out for the immediate gratification of its desires, be they born from anger or from hate, or even especially from lust. Violent to a fault, it heeds a need that leaves hurt and devastation, even death, in its wake, countless corpses standing as testament to the destruction its urges have wrought. Such an insatiable nature, the Darkness a being of pure greed, it holds in its grasp now, the one and only thing to have ever truly eluded it, the Light now struggling, made weakly ineffectual and so irrevocably HIS.

It tries to fight, as though the Light would deny the Dark still, the full force of its golden shine unleashing a brilliance that might give even the monster pause. It glows with the force of a thousand suns, burns with the heat of even more, and it is all so beautiful but is ultimately a useless response. For blinding though it tries to be, the Light is now less than it has been, trapped as it is in Emma of Mist Haven’s flesh. Caged and corralled inside her, the Light has suffered the full results of that stark a miscalculation, no real voice or strength left to it, that ephemeral creature mirroring the Dark as its true opposite in every single way.

Feminine and small to the masculine Dark’s tall, even the hosts that they inhabit, balance out in that contradictory way. Strong versus weak, one host swallowed up by the dark, while Emma of Mist Haven gleams defiant and in control, her voice louder than that of anything of the Light. She’s not even aware of that which shares space inside her, sweetly oblivious to something Killian Jones is all too aware of. She’s blind and wholly unprepared, for the Dark, and for the destiny in her hands, Emma of Mist Haven thrust into a situation that wasn’t entirely of her own making. She’s been branded you see, both blessed and cursed with that ephemeral gleam, the light inside her something that could lead the world to salvation, or doom her as its victim.

In this moment, Emma of Mist Haven is very much the latter, bound and bared as she is. She struggles, and screams, fights against the ebony vine wound tight around her wrists and her arms. She focuses so completely on breaking free, that the princess could almost forget just who---WHAT has its head between her tightly clenched thighs.

The Dark One breathes in the scent of her, that fear mixed with the heady aroma of the woman, Emma of Mist Haven all sweat and honey, that intoxicating blend concocted in part from a devoted tongue’s efforts. Its lost track of time, an entire eternity spent supping between Emma of Mist Haven’s thighs. Its learned every part of her, each delectable inch, from taste to texture to sound, the Dark has been experimenting through their every indignant response. It is both Emma of Mist Haven and the Light that the Darkness torments, that glow from within competing with the woman’s distressed voice.

Those moans and that gasp, are offset by that flicker, the Light itself hesitating, as caught and uncertain as the woman, and ever so afraid. The Dark relishes that frailty, that weakness that betrays it for the feeling creature that it has become, that brilliance not just some inside observer, but one that can and does feel, the Light on some level just as strongly tormented as the human who hosts it. For every lick of the Dark’s tongue, it is both the Light and the princess, who endure it, their abuser intent on every shake and every shiver.

Emma of Mist Haven can’t seem to stop trembling, as bit by bit, the corded tension within her starts to give way. To what she does not yet know, too inexperienced to understand better the feelings and the arousal that is being forced from her body. What starts as a single droplet, soon becomes more, Emma’s reluctant flesh flooding with a dampness that leaves even the insides of her thighs wet. That too does the Darkness eagerly drink, the full lap of its thick tongue being dragged across flesh. It leaves tingling trails of sensation in its wake, as the coarse bristle of beard hairs abraid further an already sensitive skin. None of it are feelings that could be described as wholly unpleasant, from the stubble to that tongue, invasive though it is, Emma feeling as though she is slowly losing herself under the Dark One’s persistent attention. It remains as unwanted as ever, but what woman could truly mount an unaffected front to a torment that feels like it has already lasted for several hours?

Not even Emma, Princess of Mist Haven and unwitting bearer of the light, can stand strong against this kind of stimulation. She feels every thick inch of it, that tongue as it licks over her in a most obscene way. With dips and curls, that muscle long past spreading her open, the Dark One’s face buried into that soaked flesh. She can feel it mouthing at her, catching at the folds of her labia, and suckling at that swollen nub of flesh that is her clit. That cluster of overly sensitive nerve endings, and every determined suckle has Emma of Mist Haven thrashing in place with hips that react like they have a mind of their own, the princess shaking, and even that does the Dark try to control.

With nails as sharp as that of any animal’s claws, the Dark handles and holds her, rivulets of crimson leaving wet trails across her flesh. It stings but can’t distract from the perverted feast that the Dark One enjoys, the monster who wears a man’s flesh, groaning its eager delight, intent on drinking down every last drop of her. She can’t escape its devout determination, every paltry attempt earning her the sound of its enraged snarl. He---It growls warnings at her, and scary though that might be, it is still preferred to the obscene sound of its tongue slurping wetly upon her.

She can’t block out the sound, any of them, and worst might be that of her own panting voice. Emma is long past the point of pleading, has given up on even the most emptiest of threats. She still fights to the defiant last, trying to hold in the worst of her moans. The woman may bite at her bottom lip, and let loose with a whine and whimper, but no matter what, she won’t sing the Dark One’s praises. She can’t, holding nothing but contempt for it and the act being done to her, the violation, and it’s not just of the body, but feels as though it is of her very soul.

Its the light inside her that also reels from the assault. From the sensations and feelings that come unwanted, both the Light and Emma of Mist Haven frightened. Of the tension building inside, things tightening deep within the body, Emma and the Light both dangling over a precipice that won’t take much more than a push to bring things crashing down around them.

The Dark senses it. Senses the slow but steady trek towards the capitulation it is forcing on the pair. Every exaggerated breath, every twist of the body, and that effervescent shine burns brighter and brighter, the light itself spinning out of control. It gleams tracks down Emma’s cheeks, those tears glinting like diamonds. The jade of the princess eyes don’t dull from her misery, instead they are a brilliant shot of vivacious color that still holds the slightest bit of defiance. It manifests with her voice, with the moans she refuses to give it, and even that much is tolerated, the Dark not sure it wants to break its Goddess this FAST. They’ve an eternity together, one it intends to make the most out of every single second, and even that might not be enough to make up for the time lost.

It is more time than any one creature have ought to have bared, and the Dark can’t quite keep from feeling the never healed fury such a separation has forced. Its the Dark One’s pain that makes it all the more voracious and wild, a low feral snarl escaping from deep within as it hauls Emma of Mist Haven more firmly against its hungering mouth. It lashes out at her clit with its tongue, that swollen and abused flesh throbbing with the panicked pulse of the woman’s heart. She fights it every step of the way, until the Dark and the climax is rolling her under, Emma of Mist Haven lighting up from within, as she let loose with the wildest of shrieks. She’s all the more beautiful the sight, body arching, hips writhing so hard and so violent, the princess nearly slips free of the Darkness’ grip. It curls claws on her harder, holds the woman all the more steady, as it drinks from her the sweet nectar of her release.

Its a taste the Dark might NEVER get enough of, that ambrosia the sweet blatant proof of yet another victory over the Light. Even that ephemeral being seems stunned, that brilliant glow having gone dim by several noticeable degrees. Both of them have been made subdued, the Dark chuckles hoarsely against the still sensitive flesh, the tremulous vibrations of its amusement, making the Goddess shiver and spasm anew.

That trembling perfection makes for such a tempting morsel, both that of the Light and the woman, the two having this heady, intoxicated effect on the Dark. Its drunk off of them, of their body, their climax, and most of all their despairing and defiant feelings. It is all such an intriguing mix, feeding into an obsession the Darkness has harbored for many a millennia. Its fast becoming an addict, this woman, this Goddess, a drug like no other. The Dark dips it tongue in for another taste, even as its victim stirs with a renewed vigor, protests spilling from her lips.

“Stop!” Emma of Mist Haven cries out. “You MUST stop!”

Heavy is the dark gaze that considers her, that contradictory nature not wanting to heed such a sweet plea. It nuzzles its nose against her, breathes in a scent that seems to perfume the air. Its one of sin and seduction, and the Dark One cannot get enough of it. He’s wild for it and the taste that is thick on his tongue, the best of both halves combining so that the woman tasted like sunshine and honey. Such warmth and goodness, the likes of which the Dark has never before had, its mind has not even yet turned to the other pleasures that could be found.

“Please...” The princess hates that she’s been reduced to outright begging, but that wicked mouth with its sensual lips and relentless tongue’s gyrations isn’t going to stop otherwise. “No more...Mercy...Mercy!”

“You’d beg a boon of me, even knowing there is a price to be paid?” She’s caught in that ebony gaze of endless night, staring into those twin fathomless pools of hot lust, and Emma of Mist Haven can only stammer in response.

“I...I...”

That tongue makes up her mind up for her, Emma of Mist Haven letting loose with a wild and desperate shriek. “I’ll pay it! Just no more!” She’s sure her skin is made crimson from the feverish blush heating her skin, and it is both hot and cold that she feels, to see the Dark with that handsome face, smile up at her. Doubt is nothing new to her, but at the sight of those potent lips gleaming wet from HER and curving, it births a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“Wa...Wait...”

But its not in the mood for waiting, the Dark rising up above her. She stares up at it, at him, her breath caught in her throat, and that is before his clothing erupts into an explosion of shadows that leaves him as naked as she. The princess both wants to look away, and yet can’t, staring fascinated at a body as perfectly crafted as that face of his, the hook for a hand aside. It is also the first time she has ever seen a fully grown man, naked and erect, Emma of Mist Haven’s eyes drawn to that part of him that is both threatening and intriguing. Long in length, and throbbing, that part of his anatomy seems to bob with a life and vitality all its own.

Without meaning to, Emma’s mouth parts on a gasp, the Dark One before her bending down over her. It presses a cruel kiss to her lips, giving the princess a taste of herself with it. She’s not sure what to make of that, and its not the first or even the last kiss that the Darkness will steal. She shivers beneath it, so cold and afraid for all the feverish warmth coloring her skin. The Dark tries to deepen the kiss, even as a hand goes to palm and cup a breast. That hook of its, is on her hip, the sharp tip caressing patterns on the skin, and Emma of Mist Haven is almost distracted from the beast fitting its body between her drenched thighs.

It sets her off squirming, trying again in vain to break free of the tendrils of dark magic wound about her. She can’t break free of those ebony restraints, and worst yet, her movements put her in direct contact with what might be the most threatening part of him. That focal point of so much of his lust, the princess doesn’t think she can take it, not without splitting in two. It leaves Emma of Mist Haven struggling, even more urgent sounds escaping her that can’t quite muffle the eager growl of approval the Dark One lets out. That makes her freeze up, Emma of Mist Haven almost numb to everything but the fact that the Dark One is rubbing that potent part of him over her.

The Dark for his part, fights a battle to pace himself. Its so eager for the Light, for this defining claim upon it, that its lust could lead to more carelessness than even the Darkness is prepared for. It is not that it abhors hurting the women it has laid with in the past, but that the Dark has given careful thought on just HOW the nature of its ultimate victory over the light should take form. It could be vicious, and punish its Goddess for that cruel abandonment the Dark has been made to suffer through, and depending on the day, the Dark One might still be inclined for just that. But now? After years and years of dreaming? Of fantasizing and plotting? It finds the sweetest victory might just be the complete humiliation of the Light, the Goddess made to pay again and again in euphoric spades.

To the Dark, it can think of no better revenge in the moment, than to force its Goddess to ENJOY the acts done to her. To that end, it makes slick its flesh by rubbing its cock over and against the wet ruin between the princess’ thighs. Emma of Mist Haven tries to squirm away, but the Dark’s kiss is a suffocating thing, the creature ever greedy for her every last panting breath.

When the Dark at last starts to penetrate inside her, Emma of Mist Haven lets loose with a scream. That too is muffled and eaten up by the Dark, the kiss not breaking. It makes a sound of its own, this greedy, eager noise, and it is the Dark that shudders and trembles now, fighting against the worst of its impulses where the sex is concerned. But at that virgin tight feel of her body, the woman tensing up despite how slick and wet she has been made to be, the Dark One loses control, surging forward with an eager and lustful groan.

Emma of Mist Haven shrieks a shrill sound, her eyes wide open and tearing. The light inside her flickers with its own distress, it too sharing the woman’s pain, as her virginity is so abruptly taken. In that moment, with the tension wound to breaking inside her, all of the Dark’s lusty preparations come undone, its Goddess neither relaxed nor willing for the dick shoved inside her.

The light blazes bright in an instance, then dims down considerably. Is it made miserable by what it and its host have felt? Or is it just subdued, brought to heel as a millennia long flight has been at last brought to an abrupt end? The Dark can’t say for sure, but one thing that is the unequivocal truth of them all, is that it, the Light and the woman, are now caught, trapped in this forest, this flesh, and made a prisoner of that black lust.

Even now, the power of that lust is something the Darkness can’t contain or control. Nor does it truly want to, the tight grasping feel of that virginal body, making this ancient entity wild. The blood in the veins of the Dark’s host body, seems to sing with undeniable truth of it, a harsh word whispered in triumph as the kiss is at last broken.

“Mine.”

Its Goddess doesn’t seem to hear, too busy gasping for air. The Dark does a sharp pull with its hips, enough friction generated to steal another shriek from the woman. It gains her attention though, those jade eyes so wet and defiant, so full of hurt and hate, and the Darkness uses Killian’s Jones lips to wreak both visual and verbal devastation on her.

“Mine at last and mine for good.” He can’t keep from laughing, anymore than he can hold his hips still, the Dark One working on generating more and more of that maddening friction. Its dick strokes along that ravished flesh, seeking out the warmth that comes from deep inside. Its the Light it is trying to reach, as though deep within Emma of Mist Haven, lies some sliver of tangible presence, bright but ultimately helpless now. It grinds its hips together with the princess, its balls slapping against her, as with each thrust it goes buried to the hilt of him.

Emma of Mist Haven can only cry out in protest, not understanding, nor even wanting to. She tries to deny those claims that the Dark One makes, shaking and half retching with fear. She tells the Dark that it is wrong, that she is not his. Not now, not ever, not even with her body taken. Her words the passion that lends her argument credence, Emma refusing to be so thoroughly owned. It doesn’t stop the Dark One from laughing, from mocking her for that stubbornness that can’t undo what has been done. It moves with those taunts, doing jarring flexes of its hips, that has it thrusting continuously inside her. She fights even that, refusing to be lulled or seduced into enjoying that violent friction generating inside her. For every stroke, and every thrust, Emma of Mist Haven fights, not just the Dark One, but that of her body, the sensations an already stimulated but sore flesh try to force on her.

She squirms and she shifts, but her every movement only seems to heighten the Dark One’s pleasure, its breath rasping out with a moan. Its eyes lock and focus unwavering on her, the Dark watching her, smiling that oddly satisfied smile. She doesn’t know that the light inside her is curling up, dimming in an effort to evade the last of the Darkness’ victory over it. The Light though, can’t pretend this is not happening, can’t forget the feel of the Dark moving inside its host, and just how awful that makes them both feel.

Stifled and suffocating, the light can’t lose a battle its already lost. The reprieve it bought itself many a millennia ago, has always had a price attached to it. The Light had thought it ready to pay, but hadn’t factored in what form its punishment would be. Its been made less than it was, with not enough power to equal let alone rival the Dark who has had all that time to practice and perfect itself inside its hosts. That too had been a miscalculation, the Light having thought the Dark would forever be at the mercy of the humans, and the dagger that that beaming brilliance had sacrificed its existence for.

It can’t claim to understand how things have gone so horribly wrong, the Light not ready to concede what its biggest folly might have been. It simply can’t fathom that as an existence, even it had not been free from magic exacting its price. A primordial being, the Light was slow to come to grips with the fact that nothing and no one was above the laws of this universe. Not it, not the Dark, and certainly not the poor humans along for the ride. Emma of Mist Haven and one Killian Jones as much a victim as anyone, caught in this strange farce that was the Dark’s forbidden desire for the Light. Both hosts to creatures more powerful then they, the two were a pair of the doomed and the damned, both puppets on a string, and made into the physical manifestations of Light and Dark.

God and Goddess, one to wreak havoc, the utter meant to bring peace and salvation, something had gone very, very wrong indeed. The light didn’t know how to fix it, didn’t know if such a thing was even possible any more. Dwindled as it now was, the Dark had introduced yet another new sensation to it, a feeling like never before, the Light having lost its hope.

* * *

To Be Continued…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I am gasping, panting, wheezing from exhaustion. I had a really hard time getting this chapter started. I stalled for a couple a days in fact. Then like the first page and a quarter were written over TWO days ago...I am glad I took a break when I did, cause otherwise I would have trashed that page and a quarter, and still be stuck...Didn’t expect to get over my writer’s block when I am having insomnia though…
> 
> With thanks to Huntress for the hand holding, even though she feels I am holding back a lot on the dark content…:p Hopefully she’ll be pleased with this chapter’s dark smut..!
> 
> Also, got asked about something. Mainly I got asked why I keep writing out Emma of Mist Haven, so figured if one person is curious, maybe other people are too. It’s all part of this head cannon I have for the Darkness, who knows names have power, so relishes using a person’s full name or title ALL the damn time. In the Beyond Here Lies Darkness fic, you might have noticed I almost never had it refer to Emma Swan as just Emma, or Killian Jones as just Killian or Hook. It’s a conscious choice I made in regards to it...only it tends to slip in all the time now in the fic, not just when its the Darkness narrating a moment.
> 
> I gotta grab something to eat, and then try to proof read...Though I get the feeling there will be more typos than usual here, cause of my lack of sleep state. X_X
> 
> I’m debating on next chapter. I kinda want it to open with Emma waking up, quite possibly having fainted, and then flashing briefly on what led to the fainting. (i.e. the Dark was sexing her body up way too much!) But we will see how I feel when I set out to write it. As it is, I think I don’t have the energy tonight, to try and argue with my OCD about getting the perfect opening lines. X_X
> 
> Later!
> 
> Michelle


	6. Six

It can’t get enough of her, or that of the sweet warmth of the woman’s flesh embracing him, Emma of Mist Haven wet if not willing, her quivering insides this maddening tease. The Dark growls as though the woman, its Light, is purposefully provoking it, every tempting inch gathered up in its arms. It leaves her seated on the Dark One’s lap, the back of her thighs slapping against his, as she is made to bounce in place atop that rigid length. The Dark controls that too, claws and hook digging into her hips as it guides her into a pleasing rhythm that is in sync with that of its own.

It is a desperate having of her flesh, the Dark One’s hunger an appetite so voracious and fathomless that one time isn’t enough. Nor two, nor three, the Dark having an untold millennia of repressed urges to work out on its Light. It gathers its Goddess to it, makes more than just their groins come together, the Darkness enjoying feeling the press of all that femininity against its contrasting maleness. That supple shapeliness, the sway and the bounce of both bottom and breasts, the Dark’s breath catching in its throat as just how perfect a fit these bodies were.

“We were made for each other.” The Dark states with a strained rasp of its voice. It laughs then, wild with its giddy excitement, almost taunting the Light that stays locked inside Emma of Mist Haven’s flesh. The Darkness can see it though, curled up as it is inside her, the Light still ever so brilliant even in its moment of shame. Its long past the point of hiding, of managing any kind of distance, the Dark having at last laid claim to one and only thing that it has ever clamored so desperately for. That ephemeral gleam, that shining beacon of warmth, the coveted Light everything that the Darkness is not, so pure and so holy, so loving and so good. Driven mad with the desire to have it, and have it for itself ONLY, the Dark has always striven to steal all that is the Light from this world.

From the gifts that the Light has given them, to the being itself, the Dark has laid siege, corrupting the children, those humans that the Light so adored, into wreaking havoc and pain, spreading misery with the worst of those destructive urges, and still the Light had held faith in them. Had LOVED them, more blessings given instead of taken, the Light intent on inspiring growth on all levels so that the people of this world could flourish instead of flounder. She gave them love, both the feelings and the acts to go along with it, and a self righteous fury to see an end to suffering and perversions. It gave them hope, and with it belief, but more than that, it had let blossom the seeds of peace in every heart that it had reached.

The Dark had taken those ideals, and made a mockery of them all, birthing violence in place of the Light’s love. Perverting man, and their nature, encouraging their every last destructive impulse, and giving them the free reign to sin at will. It was a clashing of natures, that imbalance in the world, a never ending game of cat and mouse, that had all culminated to a head on that fateful dawn, the Light cornered and seemingly caught, and the Dark had been as delirious then as it is now.

It was more than than just the euphoric, it was downright perfection, the Light caught and held fast, with no escape in reach. Swallowed up entirely this time by the Dark’s embrace, that beaming brilliance could only falter before it, it’s shine weak but not dulled by its disgrace. It-She wept with a silent voice, a million and one sorrows repressed, and even that did the Dark revel in, curling metaphorical fists around every bit of the light’s essence. Much like it had tried all those many, many years ago, the Dark curling around and consuming, drowning the Light with the depraved depths of its zealous wants, the forest a prison to them both.

Caught, both the Light and the woman, that Emma of Mist Haven, let loose with a repulsed cry, a strangled sound of revulsion that was accompanied in volume by a glow that would be blinding to anything else. To the enamored Dark, with its unnatural sight, and greedy, grasping nature, it was just one more thing for the having. That beautiful gold color, and that indignant squeak, both a part of the Goddess that the Dark might actually cherish. Such a soft feeling was colored in shades of black, the Dark Nemesis of the Light perverting the very feelings inside it, that attraction, that lust, a deep rooted obsession that might have passed for love, if stripped of all the things that had twisted it so. Instead of a gentle and kind touch, it was a covetous one intent on possession, the Darkness taking from the light again and again.

It wept inside, as love itself was perverted and made foul, the Light unable to feel any of the warmth that should have been inherent in such an act. Instead it was left cold, joined together to this monster as it was, the Dark One leeching from it and the woman, all their strength and vitality, leaving the princess, Emma of Mist Haven half swooning in the Dark’s embrace. She’s so close to passing out, and yet some terrified part of her holds on, Emma of Mist Haven being ridden for all she’s got, every last quiver, and every breathless sound, her body a trembling temptation that the Dark finds irresistible.

She is its Goddess made real, that fleshly body able to allow the Light to truly feel every bit of the Dark’s possession of it. Everything from the impudent hand roaming over her, to that hook rubbing its blunt curve behind her, to the lips that press an ardent worship, and the teeth that bite down with the intent to mark, the Light and Emma of Mist Haven are made HIS. Both halves of the Goddess try to protest, even deny such an irrefutable truth, but the Dark knows better. Proves it with every stroke of its flesh inside the Goddess’ body, his hips starting to pick up an urgent speed, as that frenzied and familiar need grows in intense sensation.

Close and closer yet, the Dark pulls on the princess’ hips, plummeting her down the length of him, every solid bit, Emma of Mist Haven letting out repulsed cry at that frantic a having. She’s seated fully in place on it, the Dark One doing a deep grind inside her, loving the way her insides quiver and convulse. The Dark has fast learned the sweet spots of her body, its Goddess for all their hate and revulsion, unable to resist the repeated stroke against such a place. Anymore than she can resist the hook that now presses its cold metal to her clit, that feverish bundle of nerves quick and eager to make the rest of her body full out betray her.

With that cry, and an arch of her back, Emma of Mist Haven goes wild, writhing in place upon the Dark. Its ebony eyes take in the sight of her, the light like a halo around that glistening skin, as the woman wriggles about, the frantic whine of her voice a herald to the light inside her that seems close to bursting, sparkles of it all about them both.

The Light itself is staggered in place, left almost shattered and reeling from the orgasmic feeling that has taken over its host. That flesh shared, the Light doesn’t just observe what is done to it, but actively feels, that ephemeral being made to participate in every debauched second. It doesn’t get easier the second or third time around, each climax forced on the pair, making boundaries blur, the divine and the earthly merging together, to truly come steps closer to becoming as one. What then will they be, truly neither the Light, nor Emma of Mist Haven, but something uniquely its own. And still a slave to the Dark One, to its other worldly lust, that beast made insatiable in one man’s flesh.

The Light, struggling as it with the unwanted pleasures forced upon it, looks up into the Darkness, past those twin pools of merciless ebony, to search for the man inside. There’s shadows everywhere, even in the deepest recesses, the Light’s glow not able to truly burn them away. There’s not much of anything besides that inky blackness that covers over everything like waves, no bit of color or even hope to be found, that for a second the Light thinks that the Dark has swallowed down completely the soul inside its human flesh.

Its a guiding presence, the light, and searching for that one bit of goodness to try and empower. It’s not an effortless hope it can offer, and distracted as it is b y the feel of the Dark moving about, that sharp slap of flesh, and the desperate breath rasping in an ear, the Light can only flicker uncertainly, as its wicked counterpart rouses itself ANEW.

“No!” It hears Emma of Mist Haven’s feeble attempt at a protest, might even echo it, as the feel of that cock as rock hard as ever, starts to draw the Light back to the situation at hand. Trembling and made ever so tired, the Light wonders if this will ever end, beaming a bright brilliance in angry accusation, and that is when she sees it, sees HIM. Buried so deep inside, as to be non existent, and covered in that dark tar like substance, his eyes are the one bright spot of color in an otherwise black world.

That vivid blue, so like the sky on a bright summer’s day, once seen that strong color cannot be forgotten, those eyes so soulful and wounded, and weighted down with his sacrifice. The Light looks at Killian Jones, and though there is sin in him too, there is also a goodness that speaks volumes for the man’s inner character. In that split instance of consideration, the Light deems the man worthy, extending its glow toward him, closer and closer, in an attempt to draw him out of that black mire he has been left to slowly rot in.

Killian Jones looks at the light that is racing its way towards him, and feels a long thought abandoned emotion. He feels HOPE, bright and effervescent, and the man would be lying if he claimed to not feel afraid, Killian so used to the Dark always winning, always beating him back. Swallowed down into that darkness, the fear of being disappointed again, almost has him sink down into those tarry pits completely, but then a voice joins with the light. A scream, that no, and it all comes flooding back to him, the desire and the will power, the same driving force that had led him to save and sacrifice so much to save his Alice, that child who had held only a small fraction of the power that was coming towards him now.

To save just that small ember, Killian Jones had been selfless, determined, and ruthless. Had gone to just about any length, and come away broken as a result, the victory he had been handed coming with such an immense cost, the horrors that the man had been forced to endure the Darkness using his body for, leaving their open wound upon him. It has been festering all this time, the man surviving but just barely, Killian Jones hanging on but losing his sanity bit by bit. Only slivers of his self remain, and most days, he doubts even those as real, Killian Jones reaching out, lifting his arm out of the black quick sand of misery he’s been trapped in.

With fingers extending towards the light, Killian Jones reached towards that bright glowing beam, felt its nurturing warmth upon their tips, the light seeming to flicker. He cried out a desperate no, lunged forward as best he could, making a grab for that golden colored purity.

For one second the Light faltered, distracted as it was by the Dark’s amorous attentions. By the mouth moving over it, by the hand sculpting flesh, and the thick, plunging rod that pulsated in warning before it abruptly erupted. The Light felt Emma of Mist Haven’s worry, the protest there as that hot gush of seed overflowed inside her.

It was then that it happened, that Killian Jones pulled free enough from that tar, to lay his hand on the Light. She gasped, he gasped, Emma of Mist Haven too tired and weak to truly understand what was happening. Just that she was SO hot, from the inside on out, and the Dark One’s satisfied smile, had abruptly twisted into a distorted fit of fury and rage, it’s hand suddenly locking fingers around her throat, cutting off the princess’ air. She gagged and she choked, making a grab for the Dark One’s wrist, unable to stop the abuse, and thinking she was about to die. As sparkles burst in her otherwise darkening vision, the last sight Emma had, was that of the Dark One’s eyes, and the flecks of blue leaking into them.

* * *

To Be Continued.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies, but it ended up a very short chapter. ._. Also with apologies to Huntress who I hope won’t kill me for the plot twist I wouldn’t spoil her on, and to Paige, who had been hoping for a Light POV this chapter. I didn’t get to do that the way I had hoped...I had other stuff from the Light, including more back story, that I guess will have to wait for some other future chapter or two...
> 
> The plot twist...is actually meant to play out slowly and over many chapters. How many I do not know. X_X
> 
> Originally I tried to start this as the Light’s POV, but realized the way the three measly paragraphs I had were shaping up, it was going to be a very short chapter, not even a page, cause I realized I was writing something that was better suited for the end. Only...I ended up completely trashing those three, and writing the end a different way for this chapter anyway…
> 
> It still ended up a short chapter though...but not as short as it almost was. So I guess I am happy!
> 
> Oh also wanted to thank Tulio for his naughty gift art of the Dark With Emma! And yes, it sorta inspired the position they were in at the start of this chapter! XD
> 
> Laters!
> 
> \---Michelle

**Author's Note:**

> Hmm….can’t really think of much to say at the moment. Got a lot going on in real life, though I suspect we all do, cause of the virus...been trying to find my writing muse, but not having much luck on that front. This be a gift fic for my best friend, and I think I covered what I wanted to say in the author’s note before the fic started….
> 
> Later…
> 
> Michelle


End file.
